AmbivaBlog: Alone Again.

This is the classic children's book, Goodenough Gismo, by Richmond I. Kelsey, published in 1948. Nearly unavailable in libraries and the collector's market, it is posted here with love as an "orphan work" so that it may be seen and appreciated -- and perhaps even republished, as it deserves to be. After you read this book, it won't surprise you to learn that Richmond Irwin Kelsey (1905-1987) was an accomplished artist, or that as Dick Kelsey, he was one of the great Disney art directors, breaking your heart with "Pinocchio," "Dumbo," and "Bambi."

Our friend Margie was here for 5 days. She's been our friend since 1975, when Jacques had osteomyelitis of the spine and her husband Warren, a distinguished, irreverent thoracic surgeon, the son of an Iowa country doctor, operated on him. It established, shall we say, a blood relationship.

They moved to Los Angeles and we'd go visit and stay with them there, first in the Valley, then in Westwood. Now, both born Midwestern, they've retired in Illinois, by sheer chance in the same suburb where me bro lives. Their two sons grew up into second-generation friends. They're opposites, dark and light. George is a Navy veteran, conservative/libertarian, lives in Baton Rouge, works on oil rigs off Vietnam and is engaged to a Vietnamese woman. Ralph is liberal/countercultural, lives in Santa Cruz with Robyn and little Ben, and works at Google. (Ralph and Robyn built Jacques' website.) All of them are family.

Having Margie here showed me how much more Jacques is now capable of than I ask of him. He sat up almost all day, every day, listening and conversing. We went to the "strength gym" he goes to once a week and he pulled himself up out of his wheelchair and, holding the bar, did deep knee bends.

Like when True Ancestor was here for a shorter time, just to triangulate our alone-togetherness for the better part of a week was a poignant luxury. To have someone to share the cooking and the conversing and entertaining and socializing for more than an hour or so a day. Humans are meant to live in extended families.

Then Teddy came. Also a friend of over 30 years' standing. His brother's wife introduced me and J. Teddy's the one I've been writing the foundation mission statement for/with. (The fascination of what's difficult.) I found out it's not finished yet. Each round circles closer, though. We feasted and listened to flamenco yesterday (Teddy studied and taped the old, raw flamenco of Diego el del Gastor in Morón de la Frontera, Andalusia, and gave us some of those tapes). If you darkened the room and put Ted's guitar in his arms this could be a juerga.

We worked today. The thing about being a writer for hire -- a little like being an actor, or maybe a psychotherapist -- is that your head spins from the different universes you inhabit. Where to come home to between interplanetary travels?